Harassment in the Workplace
by Acyrotin
Summary: A Toon has a curiosity for the cogs, and would be willing to do anything to learn about them. Will she give up all she knows to learn about them? Will she even end up joining their ranks, and forsaking all which toons hold dear? ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Ah, Toontown. Recently I returned to the game after several years of abandonment, and remade my character, Miss Fancy Petalbubble. She had a bit of a fanbase on a toontown forum of her antics of helping cogs and taking over toontown...well, I thought, since I've returned to the game, why not rewrite a story long since lost in the depths of cyberspace?**

**Rated T for a bit of violence, both toonish and non...probably no pairings. I don't known Toontown, the Cogs, any of it. I just own my dear Miss Fancy Petalbubble.  
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o0o0o0o0o0o

Miss Fancy Petalbubble always had an...unhealthy fascination for the cogs. While other toons were more interested in forcing pies down their metallic throats until the gears within them screeched to a halt, she was more interested in how they worked. Why they behaved so differently from toons. Why they wore such dark and boring colors and were interested in things so very opposite of what toons liked to do.

She collected them. Or, well, parts of them. After fights, she'd sneak away an arm or leg...possibly a chest or leg if there was absolutely nobody around. It was hard, given other toons were supposed to be cleaning up the remains of cogs they destroy with the 'hole teleportation' system out of common courtesy as well as limiting the amount of metal litter that hung about on the streets. However, not all toons stuck to this policy, which was what made it possible to grab the things without having to destroy other bots. Springs and metal plating were strewn all about her two-room home, along with the burnt or ripped fabric of what had been a cog suit at one time.

Her friends and siblings called her odd. They didn't step foot into her house, of course, otherwise their opinion would change to her being downright crazy. But she didn't care. Even as her baby blue eyes watched as the mechanisms patrolled the streets in precise, timed movements, she found there was nothing more fascinating. She had a gift of invention and technology, which made it easy to figure out the inner workings of the robots...but her knowledge was stunted by the lack of a live cog to learn from. One couldn't simply wander up to a cog and expect it not to attack you, after all.

"You are strange." She stated to the husk of a Bloodsucker's head, turning it upside down and pulling out the wires as she sat at her desk. "You all are...and yet so very mysterious. Do we really know how you work? Or do we simply assume?"

She had tried to find the right parts to salvage to rebuild a cog. If it was even possible, she wasn't sure...but it was sure proving to be a downright challenging task. Wires and the like could be salvaged from any type, but the body and frame, all of that had to be one -specific- type. It was hard to decide which would be the easiest to work with. Lawbots were rule-keepers, intent on sticking to them...they would probably not be great for a first encounter. Bossbots were, true to their name, bossy, and did little for themselves. They were also out. Cashbots were too concerned with money, and for fear of her things being snatched and sold should it get out of hand, she wisely chose to cross that off.

Which left only the Sellbots. Perhaps she could negotiate a deal...they did enjoy their deals, as long as they felt they got something to gain out of it.

She looked up as the doorbell rang, her feline ears twitching faintly. Her eyes were dark from lack of sleep, and her gloved hands reached out, pulling the tarp and draping it over the project splayed out on the desk. She pushed things off to the side, clearing a path towards the door, and after pulling the chain, she cracked open the door. "Hello?"

One of her siblings was checking on her. They chattered incessantly, asking her if she was alright, that she needed more sleep, that she hadn't been working on her toontasks and all of that. She answered or waved off their worries dismissively, not at all bothered. "Just a little trouble sleeping, and I'm just taking a bit of a break. Wouldn't want to burn out or get too ahead of myself." It lasted for a few minutes before she managed to shoo them away, and she closed and locked the door again.

Her hand reached up, rubbing one of her eyes tiredly before she stepped back towards the desk, sighing softly. "So...so tired." She spoke softly, removing the tarp and returning to rewiring and carefully stitching together parts of salvaged sellbot suits. Just a bit more effort...

o0o0o0o0o0o

It had taken a week, filled with scattered sleep and the occasional break to get food or do a task here or there. Her paws were aching from running along the streets of Minnie's Melodyland over and over again. "I hate some of these tasks..." They were so annoying, being told to go here or there. Or having to go somewhere and end up having to double back...she could probably tell you exactly what buildings were on Alto Avenue by now.

She dusted off the aqua blue shirt and skirt she wore, and focused her already straining eyes on finishing up the stitching of the suit. She paid such careful attention to it...and she sighed as she finished it and set it to the side. The metal body had been put back together, joints popped into place, every gear in its proper place...she took one final look inside before she closed it, and pulled the business suit over the frame, buttoning and straightening fabric. It had shaped up to be a perfectly pieced together -from what she could tell- Mover & Shaker. She was rather proud of her work...Now she just needed to start it up.

There was a panel near the neck that had a few emergency controls. Uneasily, she reached out, pressing the power button and shutting the panel, and easing back. She had no idea what would happen. She was out of gags, and this 'experiment' did not come complete with its arsenal of cog weaponry. But that didn't mean things could degrade to a physical fight.

There was silence for a few minutes, before she could hear the faint whir of gears and other mechanical workings starting up. It was slow, though. Cogs apparently weren't designed to be the fastest in terms of reactivation...they probably weren't designed for it, given they were mass-produced and replaced if they were destroyed. The large body seemed to shudder as its systems came back online...and Miss Fancy felt her fur bristle as the ever-smiling head lifted, looking straight at her. She could admit it was terrifying to have it in her home, without the reassurance of gags. It stood, looming over her...she could hear its garbled, mechanical voice as it tried to process where it was, what had happened...and whether to attack to the toon.

Cogs, strangely enough, had a 'Black Box' feature, as Miss Fancy discovered while peering into their heads -literally-. It saved the last ten minutes of their lives before they were destroyed. Perhaps it was for other cogs to collect at some point to further learn about toons to learn how to stop them...or perhaps it was just a portion of their design that wasn't used to its full extent, instead mostly unused and forgotten.

She hadn't destroyed the cog in front of her. Or, well...most of him. She did take out the one she salvaged the legs from. But he didn't need to know that. He reached for the toon-damaging gear the robots carried, only to find that there were none. A noise of frustration left him...and it was only interrupted when Miss Fancy gave a quiet 'ahem'. His unblinking eyes were soon glaring at her, giving her his undivided attention...very reluctantly, one might add.

"I don't have any gags, so don't worry...it'd be kind of a waste, since I reassembled you." Now that earned a vague sense of interest. "Well, only part of it is -you-. Exploding tends to make it difficult to use the entire body. The rest of it I salvaged from the remnants of other toons' fights." He looked down at himself, inspecting her work. He tested joints, fingers, making sure everything was working properly. "I actually stitched the suit back together, too. Some of the fabric gets singed after the explosion...finding portions of a suit that weren't damaged was hard. Does it fit alright, though?" There was a silent nod. She was under the impression that the cog was just as overwhelmed as she was. She could understand, what with coming back from the dead and by the hands of an enemy, no less.

There was an awkward moment of silence before she cleared her throat again. "Soooo...I was interested in perhaps negotiating a deal with you. You're a Mover & Shaker, and I know that if there's any cog that can make things happen, it's you." Flattery. Obviously, but...it worked. She gestured to the chairs nearby, offering him a seat. Soon they were sitting, face-to-face...cog and toon, in the same room, not trying to harm the other. Ah, the newspapers would be going crazy right about now. "Firstly, might I ask if you have a name? It would be easier to have something to call you by than 'Mover & Shaker'."

"...Product Number: 51208050, ID# 71829, Name: Arthur."

"Ah, Arthur...alright. Well, nice to meet you. I am Miss Fancy Petalbubble...You may call me Miss Fancy for short." She said, and finished with her pleasantries. "Now, what I want to ask for is something that is most likely not of the norm. I want to learn more about the cogs." The cat did not beat around the bush, that much was obvious.

"No doubt to learn how to destroy us all the more efficiently, hmm?" The sellbot, 'Arthur', replied, sitting with his back pressed up against the chair's back in a straight, tense, and professional manner. He was treating this like it was: Business.

"No, actually. The toons would throw a fit if they knew I had reassembled a cog and was currently sitting in my living room with it...regardless of whether I wanted to help them learn how to blow them up easier or not." She sat politely in her chair, hands resting in her lap idly. "No, I am acting on my own agenda. I want to learn about cogs themselves. What they do, how they work, why they behave the way they do. What do they do behind the scenes? Do they have free-time, and if so, what do they do? Those kind of things. Answers I can't receive by the normal method toons have of 'pelt them with gags until they explode'."

"Why?"

It was a simple question. "Because...cogs are strange, to toon standards. But everyone is content with the minimum amount of research, and I find it personally distasteful not to try and achieve more in terms of knowledge...besides, cogs fascinate me." There was a spark in those emerald eyes, one of interest at the topic of conversation. It was like a scientist talking about their inventions or a painter about art.

"You are aware of the saying 'curiosity killed the cat'...?" One of the slender metal eyebrows lifted as he looked at her, the tips of his fingers pressing together in a manner that seemed partially calculative and partially amused. She just gave a faint grin.

"Yes, I'm well aware of the saying."

"Well, what do I get out of the deal?" His arms folded, looking at her expectantly. She was quiet for a few moments, thinking. What did she have to offer? It had to be something that the Cogs, in their entirety, would be interested in having.

"Well, if you can convince your superior, the VP, to allow me access into the Sellbot HQ to study cogs...or even just to let me have a meeting with him to discuss things..." She paused. "I'll hand over information on the toons in exchange. I'll be something of a 'double agent', as it were. And I could always up the ante, if need be." That large, eerie smile on the cog's face seemed to widen a fraction more as he leaned forward.

"You'd be willing to sell out the toons?"

There was a moment of hesitance, before she exhaled and nodded slowly. "If you can make it happen, then yes, I would be willing to throw them under the metaphorical bus."

"If there's any doubt you are feeding information to any toon, the higher ups will have the right to sever your 'research' and punish you accordingly. Will you still be up to it?"

"I have already made up my mind, sir. I am fully aware of the risks and consequences."

There was silence, the dark brown eyes staring into space as he went over the details. One could practically hear the spinning of gears in the 'brain' as it worked. It wasn't long, however, before a robotic hand was extended outwards. "I will see what I can do, Miss Fancy." Miss Fancy reached out, gloved hand meeting metal in a shake to seal the deal.

"I don't doubt you will. Keep in touch, will you?"


	2. Chapter 2

It had been a week. Miss Fancy was beginning to think she had been fooled. How sorely disappointing it would be to do all that work, just to have it disappear and never come back. But, she felt she should've known better. One of the first rules in training was 'Never Trust Cogs', and her faith in the whole deal was beginning to nosedive by the time day 7 had come.

Now, perhaps that was due to communication difficulty. Toontown's phone service was monitored, so she couldn't exactly be called without alerting anyone. The same concern over alerting toontown officials would probably be why any of those looming robots couldn't just walk up and say something. Which left only two viable options: Visiting her at her estate, or sending something in the mail. We all know how long it takes for that dreaded 'snail mail' to get sent.

So, there was still a small shimmer of hope.

Day 8 had arrived, and she groggily pulled opened the door and looked out into the early overcast morning, rubbing her eyes. The sun wasn't even up all the way yet. But her schticker book had chimed in its strange little way, alerting her that she had mail...safe to say she was forced to drag herself from her lovely little frilly purple bed when it wouldn't stop jingling and chiming even after she threw it against the wall on the other side of the room. Just by the time she was getting accustomed to having a normal sleeping schedule again, it had to going and ruin that.

She shuffled out, pawed feet sliding across the ground in a way reminiscent of a zombie. Gloved hands reached out, pulling the 'mouth' of the mailbox open and reaching inside. Her blue eyes snapped open when out from the metal box came an envelope. It was not a toon parcel. The envelope was thin and a dull beige, sealed closed. The address and her name were spelled neatly in the center of its front, the letters handwritten in a very precise, practiced manner.

She carefully slid one of her gloved fingers underneath the flap and pulled, ripping it open as controlled as she could manage, and it took all her willpower not to yank out the letter and read it as frantically as she wanted to. The words were written via typewriter, her address perched at the top left corner of the paper, along with the date. Her eyes scanned over the words of the letter's bulk quickly:

Miss F. Petalbubble,

1 Mover & Shaker unit, titled 'Arthur', has recently contacted the Senior Vice President and disclosed information regarding your actions to rebuild aforementioned Mover & Shaker as well as your requests to further research Cogs. Your request is under consideration, and the V.P requests a meeting with you to discuss the deal and hear from you personally before your request is accepted or declined. Please go to the Sellbot HQ at 8:00 AM sharp, and go into Sellbot Towers. 'Arthur' will meet you at the top and escort you to the V.P's office, where the meeting will take place. Being on time would be recommended.

Thank you, and have a pleasant day,

'Jennifer', ID# 68102 Name Dropper.

The cat could swear her jaw was on the ground right now, her eyes rereading the letter several times over just to make sure she hadn't misread anything. A sudden, undignified squeal of excitement left her as she suddenly bounced, arms thrown up into the air. "I'm going to meet the V.P! I'm going to meet the V.P!" She exclaimed in a sing-song voice, before stopping, gasping as she looked back towards her house.

"What am I going to do? Or wear?" She said, something almost like panic in her eyes as she scrambled back into the house, diving towards her wardrobe and digging through the many clothes that were crammed into it.

o0o0o0o0o0o

The sky over Sellbot HQ seemed darker and gloomier than it usually was, she noticed. She dusted her dark blue clothing off, and walked through the courtyard, black shoes kicking little bits of grey gravel out of the way as she moved. She ignored the glares of the cogs as they eyed her while they moved in their programed paths, never deviating. She just kept her eyes straight ahead, and after sparing a look around to make sure no toons were around, she opened one of the doors leading into the main building and went in. It was too early, most of the toons were either still asleep or going smaller tasks while waiting for the majority to wake up so they could hit the HQs without worry of being saddened.

As Miss Fancy stood in the elevator, furred ears listening to its accompanying music, she felt nerves begin to get the better of her. This was -extremely- dangerous. It wasn't one cog she was going to be facing. It was going to be the boss of the Sellbots. Her laff points were only a mere 46, not enough to do anything. She had restocked on gags since her encounter with Arthur, but none of what she had would be able to do anything. Her gloved hands wrung nervously, and she finally looked up as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open with a metallic creak.

The familiar Mover & Shaker was standing there, having been patiently waiting for her arrival. His arms were folded behind his back, and and he was grinning that same grin he had when she had reactivated him. "Miss Fancy." He greeted. She dipped her head in a quick nod of acknowledgement.

"Arthur." She said, stepping out of the elevator and dusting her skirt off, as well as smoothing any wrinkles it might have had in it. He turned sharply on his heel and began to lead the way, the coral pink cat trailing along behind him. "Is there anything I should know before we get in there?" She asked quietly as she followed.

"Be polite and professional, monitor his moods, and don't say anything stupid." Well, he was honest about that, at least. "None of which should be a problem for you, if our meeting was any indication." One of the thin eyebrows rose as he looked over his shoulder at her, moving towards the gear shaped elevator. "Oh, one final thing." He said as she came to stand at his side while the elevator descended. "Don't be intimidated by him, or at least show it. He'll use it to his advantage, and you won't get anywhere."

"Oh...okay. Thank you for the advice." One of the gloved hands reached up, running over the brown muzzle, briefly running over the freckled cheeks to swipe away any fur before the hand dropped. The elevator came to a halt at a huge door...and she glanced back to find an equally large platform behind her. "Oh, so the V.P doesn't actually fall to his death when toons beat him?"

"No. That catches him, allowing him to roll back to his office, get cleaned and repaired, and go back to work. What the toons do is merely a...minor setback. Try not to mention any of that either. As you can guess, it's a rather...sensitive topic." The Mover & Shaker spoke as he opened a smaller door within the gigantic one, allowing the two of them access inside.

"I understand." Miss Fancy said, before looking around as she walked in. They were in what appeared to be a lobby. Various pieces of leather furniture was placed off to either side of the room, with tables and books or the lack placed here or there. But there was a very clear pathway in the large room that moved right on to the next large door, which she assumed had to be boss' office. There was a small room just off to the side, that had a rounded desk sitting near its door. A Name Dropper sat at it, currently multitasking by answering calls on her headset as well as doing paperwork. She just glanced at them and nudged her head, giving the all-clear to go ahead in.

Another normal sized door, and they were within the office. It appeared to be set up to function as both an office and a meeting room. A boss-sized desk was set off in the left, neatly organized with various charts regarding selling performance and the like pinned behind it, and letters and other important documents in neat piles on the desk's top. There was no need for a chair for the desk, given the unique structure of the boss cogs. Filing cabinets and shelves were positioned against the wall, and overall it looked just as neat and professional as anything else the cogs did.

Off to the right was a long table with many chairs tucked at its sides, with a projector and a screen, a dry erase board and other necessities nearby. Sitting at the end of the table was none other than the looming figure Miss Fancy had been told to come see. Binocular like eyes focused on them as they came forth. "..V.P, sir? I am Miss Fancy Petalbubble. We had a meeting." The cat said, tilting her head up to look at him. She avoided tensing as he lurched down, hanging overhead as he took a closer look at her.

"Ah, you're the toon Arthur here was saying was interested in learning about the cogs!...Somehow I thought you'd be taller."

"And I thought you'd be bulkier. I'm glad to see that other toons were exaggerating. I think you look quite slim, in my opinion."

"Ah, well..." There was a hint of pride, the metal chest seeming to puff up a bit. Arthur just smirked, amused. Flattery could get you everywhere it seemed, and the little cat seemed to have a knack for charming others. They took their seats, and the V.P leaned back, the shocks holding the upper body squeaking as they adjusted to the movement of weight. "So, what is it you want to learn about the Cogs?"

"Everything."

"Everything? That is an awful lot of information. Arthur here says that you would be willing to pay for all of that, though."

"Indeed I would." The feline said, smiling. "I would be willing to offer whatever information you want regarding the toons, such as any major plans, places of interest, prime locations to invade.." Her hands folded together and rested on the table as she looked up towards him. "I could even tell you how Laff Meters work, or, in time, how to get into the Playgrounds."

She had him interested, she could see that by the fact the eyes had not strayed off of her. The grin gracing the 'happy' face did not falter. "That does sound very good...but it almost doesn't seem like it's enough."

"Well..." She paused, dull canines gnawing on her bottom lip in thought. "I could prove my worth, and work for you as an assistant-" Low laughter bellowed, deep and plentiful. The toon's arms folded as he continued laughing.

"Y-You? Work a cog's job?" The laughter died down to a chuckling, and he shook his metallic head. "Toons are nowhere near as efficient as cogs."

"Oh really? Do you have scientific evidence to prove that claim, Mr. V.P?" She asked.

"No-"

"Have you had a toon work for you before?"

"Well, no-"

"Have any of the other boss cogs had toons that worked for them?"

"No-"

"Then you have no evidence to prove that toons aren't as efficient as cogs." She stated matter-of-factly, leaning back in her chair. "I am asking for a month. Let me work under a cog as an apprentice to learn the mechanics and what needs to be done, and I promise I will be just as efficient as any cog you have in this building." She was standing by now, palms against the table. She didn't offer an option of if she failed or could not meet the standards set by the robots.

The V.P looked at her for a few moments in silence, before an amused hum left his voice. "You're passionate, and you're stubborn. Good qualities, very good. You've got potential..." He glanced upwards in thought. "Fine. If, in a month, you can prove you are just as capable of working, then you can research freely. You will be checking in with me every week to provide me with information about the toons, as well as an update on your status. If you are caught feeding information to any toon forces, we will use forceful punishment...you will be allowed two days to do toon-related things so as not to rouse suspicion. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Miss Fancy nodded.

"Alright. You'll be working under Jennifer, the Name Dropper you passed by on your way in. Arthur will be checking in on you and will be offering any help he can give out of his busy schedule...Arthur, you'll be returning back to work immediately."

"Happy to do so, sir." Arthur said, standing up from his chair.

"You'll start first thing tomorrow, 8 am, Miss Fancy. Your uniform will be delivered to you."

"Yes sir. Thank you for the opportunity, sir." The feline said, only barely hiding her giddiness. Oh, the things she'd be learning...but in the midst of the overwhelming happiness, she had forgotten to think of just how her, a toon, would be reacting to doing the things a cog would do. Oh, that was the farthest thought from her mind at the moment. But as she left through the black hole teleportation system, heading off to do what she could before her new employment, she didn't realize how soon she'd find out the difficulties of a toon doing the job of a thing that was the complete opposite of what she was.


	3. Chapter 3

The first thing Miss Fancy learned when she opened the box that popped into her mailbox was that her 'uniform' was very different than what toons typically wore. A long-sleeved cream-colored shirt, a dark grey suit jacket, a black skirt that went to her knees, a pair of black flats, a watch and a set of black cufflinks. she guessed that the grey and black were probably colors for her 'temporary' position. Everything was placed on with ease, taking place of her typical bright colored clothing. "Well, this isn't so bad." She said, dusting the jacket off, before pausing. "How am I going to get there without being seen?" The answer was presented inside the box, an object overlooked while she had been digging the clothing out. It was a simple cylindrical shape with two fold-able handles and a red button on it. It had a label with three simple instructions:

'1. Make sure you are outside.

2. Make sure you are holding onto the handles.

3. Hit the button.'

She blinked, and after making sure she had her schticker book and any necessities, she stepped outside and closed the door behind her. "Alright, let's see. I'm outside..." Her gloved hands grabbed the handles. "Holding the handles...pressing the button..." Her finger pushed the button, and she watched as the top of the object opened, and out of it came a silver pipe, and from that came steel blades. They began to spin, faster and faster until they jutted upwards, and she yelped as they pulled her off of the ground with ease. "I'm off the ground, off the ground! Don't like being off of the ground!" She said, clinging to the handles desperately as it lifted her higher and higher up, until her estate slowly drifted out of her sight. Oh yes, this was -so- much less conspicuous. At least it was early...

"Darn you cogs." She mumbled under her breath, helpless to do anything but hang on and wait until it brought her to her destination.

o0o0o0o0o0o

It moved fast, thankfully. Her arms were getting tired by the time it lowered her down outside of the V.P's office. It folded back up, and she folded the handles and tucked it away into the bottomless 'pocket' toons had, and stepped inside.

Jennifer was waiting, her heels clicking on the floor. "Well, you're on time and looking decent, at least, _toon._" Something told Miss Fancy she wasn't going to get along with this woman as soon as she said that. "Alright, now I am going to lay down a few rules before we start. First of all, you listen to -me-, and do what I say. Secondly, I'm a busy lady, and this is a very important position. I won't tolerate you slacking off or wasting my time. Got it?"

"Yes, Miss Jennifer."

"Good. Personally, I think it's a waste of time letting a toon try to work a cog's job, but I can't argue against the V.P." She handed the female toon a large book. "This is both a rulebook and an 'instruction manual' to your job. You'll be filing my rolodex and some of the minor paperwork today." The toon about fell forward at the sheer weight of the book.

"I'm expected to read all of this?" She asked in shock as she looked down at the book.

"Oh yes. We'll cover most of the chapters while you're working, provided you get that far...best to get your reading done when you get the chance. Let's see...you'll be working a five hour shift, and you'll have one 15 minute lunch break in two and a half hours. The V.P wanted me to say that, for your safety, it would be wise to remain in here during that time. Though the word has gotten out not to harm you...some cogs are still itching to make you green." She turned on her heel, the feline following behind her. One of the purple hands pointed towards the office behind her. "You'll be working at the desk in there. If you have any questions, refer to your book...bother me only as a last resort. Anything you'd like to ask now?"

"Yes. How would you like your rolodex and minor files filed?"

"My rolodex would be alphabetical and sorted by cog type. So A-Z for Bossbot, Sellbot, Lawbot and Cashbot, in that order. It'll be easy to tell by reading the cards. The paperwork should be done alphabetically, and by what it is. Contracts, Requisitions, Invasion Information, so on. Set them in their correct places in the filing cabinets in there." She took the rolodex off of her desk, setting it in the pink cat's arms with the book. "Don't bend my cards." Her red lips curved up in a smile, though it was arrogant and more of a sneer than a pleasant grin.

"Yes, Miss Jennifer." Miss Fancy said, nodding before she headed into the office. If was decent enough, neat and in order as everything should've been. She walked over to the desk, sitting down in the black and silver desk chair and setting the large book down to the side, and the rolodex down in front of her. To her side was what appeared to be a stacked mountain of paperwork. 'Oh, it's going to be a long day'.

The rolodex was no problem, easily sorted and neatly placed back into it without a single bend or crease placed in any of the cards. It was set off to the side, and she got started on the paperwork. She had to read over their titles and form types, but began sorting them into piles as she read, having to often glance to the book she was given for advice on a few of them. They were tucked into the appropriately labeled drawers of the filing cabinets. It wasn't so bad.

Well, at first. Everything went smoothly the first hour, before she started feeling a pressure in her skull. At first, she thought it was just a minor headache, a migraine from staring at the text on paper for too long. She ignored it the best she could, continuing her work and occasionally pausing and trying to work her eyes and stop the ache in her head. But it just grew worse and worse, and by the time break time had come, nausea had come to join the party of misery. Jennifer peered into the office, only to find a good chunk of the paperwork mountain gone, and the toon with her arms crossed and on the desk, with her head buried in it.

"Miss Fancy, what are you doing?"

"I just...have a bit of a headache. Nothing to fret about. It'll go away...just need a few minutes of not staring at paperwork." The coral pink cat reassured, and Jennifer just raised a thin black brow before nodding.

"Well, I am going to go take my break. I'll be back in fifteen minutes." Miss Fancy just gave a weak wave, watching from the corner of her arm as the female cog left. She heard a deep, like that of an alarm, coming from her pocket. She reached in, pulling out a small handheld device in the shape of a feline's head, with the same coloring as her. Where this morning a full closed grin had graced the digital mouth, now its multicolored teeth were shown, and both the digital numbers and the remaining red bars were flashing warningly.

"Oh...oh dear..." She said quietly, staring at it and lifting her head. It was slowly beginning to descend, dropping into the single digits, ticking away like a countdown. She pulled her hands away from the paperwork, moving away from all of it the best she could. Standing up was not the right way to go, though, as blood rushed away from her throbbing skull and the room began to spin, faster and faster. She swayed as she tried to at least get out to the lobby, but felt her legs give out beneath her. She hit the hard floor with a harsh smack, the laff meter sliding just out of reach of her hands.

Blue eyes watched as the last red bar lingering in the meter's mouth flashed, a mere '5' blinking in its right eye as it stared back at her. She watched as it further descended, painfully slow. Black was creeping in around her vision. Working with the very things cogs used in battle apparently hurt even if you were handling them. It also seemed to have a residual damaging effect as well. "Going to need to work on figuring out a way around that..." She mumbled, seeing the numbers in the eyes finally disappear, replaced by two bold 'X's, the fur turning green and the grin melting into a frown. That was right about the time she disconnected from everything.

Ten minutes later, Jennifer came back to find an unconscious toon. Her hand reached up, pressing the button of her headset. "Mr. V.P, the toon is unconscious. What do you want me to do?" She asked, and heard silence for a few moments before a reply was given. "Alright, I'll phone oleander and see if he can come have a look at her. What should I do with her until then?" She sighed at the answer. "Yes sir, will do." She frowned, stepping forward and scooping the toon up. "Stupid feline.." She mumbled under her breath, stepping back out and laying her on one of the leather couches.

With that, she turned on her headset again, typing in a number and waiting for an answer. "Hello, Oleander? Yes, this is Jennifer from Sellbot HQ. We have a bit of a problem you might just be the bot to help with...you're not going to believe me when I tell you."


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: Thank you guys all for your wonderful replies. I am glad to see so many people enjoying my story so far. ^.^ Swift, your offer for toon support is most tempting. I'll have to keep it in mind while I'm writing.

Alright, now, here's another chapter, whoo.

o0o0o0o0o0o

Darkness.

A unending void of shadow, everywhere. No light, no sound, not a sight or scent to grace the blanket of black. It was empty, filled only with that wretched darkness. She didn't much care for the emptiness, it was rather boring.

Until a blurry light finally flickered into existence, small at first. Like the flame of a candle. But it slowly grew with increasing intensity, until it was blinding. It was then that she realized it was her eyes opening. They squinted into narrow slits as the light grew to be too much, making the dull pain in her head flare up again. She could see colored shapes, little more than smudges while her eyes refocused on one thing at a time. She could hear her blood rushing through her ears, mimicking the sound of static, making the voices she could hear sound like nothing more than a garbled mess.

"Miss Fancy...Hello, little vone. Coming to the land of the living again, ja? How many fingers am I holding up?" She squinted as a seafoam green colored smudge came into view. It took her a moment.

"Um...three?"

"Very good." Her vision began to sharpen, and her numbed nerves came to their senses. It felt like she was laying on a bed of some sort, though it was made of metal. It almost reminded her of an operating table. "You were out for a few hours, little vone. I vould not advise moving too much..." She turned her head, looking around. She was in what appeared to be part of a repair station for cogs who had won battles with the toons and needed to be fixed before they could get back to work. A bright light, reminiscent of the operating lights used in toon doctor offices, hung above.

"What happened?" Her head turned to the other direction, to see a cog standing nearby, prongs in hand. They carefully dropped what appeared to be an empty bag of pixie dust into a 'Hazard' disposal box.

"I do not know ze details, but you had run out of laff points." Gloves were removed, set aside on the table. It was when he stepped into the light that she could fully see him. It was not a Sellbot. He did not have the dark plaid-patterned suit or the signature badge on his chest. It was a Spin Doctor, dressed in the blue uniform with the gavel symbol on his chest. "Jennifer found you on the floor, unconscious. Ve believe it had something to do with the work you were doing."

"Oh...right, I remember now...who are you?"

"I am Oleander. I work as one of many who repair other cogs. Ve have machines who manufacture cogs, but none who repair them. Somebody has to do it. I am a doctor in more ways than vone." He stopped by the side of the table, glancing down at her. "I admit, I have not had to fix a toon before. But they called after I had taken gags from a toon I turned green, and some of those happened to be 'Toon-Up' gags. I figured using the bag of dust would be the easiest out of them."

"Well, thank you." She slowly eased into sitting upright, and rubbed her head. "Ow..."

"I did not say it'd take all of ze pain away." He reached towards the table, and handed her her laff meter. It was now fully happy again. "Could you further explain what might've happened, Miss Fancy?"

"Nn...well, I suppose I'd have to kind of explain how a toon works first. See, these 'Laff Meters' we get when we're young, when we're training and learning how to fight you guys. These don't measure health, but rather, our resistance to cog attacks. We have a minor resistance at first, but its only through doing tasks and being further exposed to cog attacks that we adapt and that resistance grows higher. The higher the resistance, the more we can handle. When the meter drops to zero, we are typically forced back to a playground where it is safe, and are either unconscious or in a state of lethargy and depression until we recover."

"But I think you're right. It didn't start until I was working, and it got worse and worse the more points I lost...I suppose I'll have to pack a bag of healing things."

"You're quite ze stubborn one, if you still vant to work after that." Oleander commented. The black-framed glasses he wore, an oddity among Spin Doctors, was pressed up the bridge of his nose.

"I get the mention that I'm stubborn alot...might I ask why you're speaking like that, with that accent?" Miss Fancy's notorious curiosity, never waning. The lawbot didn't seem bothered as he moved away to finish putting things up.

"It is a programming error that has become somewhat common in a portion of Cog Nation. Ve have an alternate language in addition to the vone I'm speaking to you right now."

"Fascinating." Her legs were dangling off of the edge of the table, ears twisted forward in interest. "So cogs have programming errors?"

"Sometimes, yes. Sometimes it affects our speech, sometimes our vision-" He gestured to his glasses, "It depends. Most of the time these programming errors don't dampen our ability to vork, so no action is taken." He glanced upwards. "If you vish, you may go now. You still have vork to catch up on..."

"Yeah..." She sighed, leaping off of the table and onto her feet again. "Thank you for the help...am I still in Sellbot HQ?"

"You're velcome, and yes, you are. I came here to limit any possible damage done to you...besides, the other types aren't aware of your presence, so dragging you in might not be a good idea, ja?"

"Yeah...nice meeting you, Oleander. Something tells me I might be seeing you more often in the future." She said, heading out towards the door. "Now, to go do my work to keep Jennifer from yelling at me."

"Good luck with that."


	5. Chapter 5

The Cogs had placed bets on how long the little toon would last. Some said a few days, some a few weeks. They would gather around the water coolers, their mechanical voices chattering. Sometimes they'd insult her, enjoying their form of 'humor'. Sometimes they'd murmur and complain about her presence. On rare occasion, a lowly cold caller might perk up and say something considered relatively 'nice' about her...they would quickly be hushed and frightened away by the higher ranking bots.

Miss Fancy ignored them. As time passed, she got to venture into the 'offices' of Sellbot HQ, and would frequently hear them comment on something about her work or whatever. She remained polite, civil and professional. She would sidestep around them if they got in her way on purpose...she had resisted the urge to smack them with a few pies with great success. She would hand over to information to the V.P as requested, she ignored her mentor's snappish, haughty attitude towards her, and would do the work that was piled up on her without uttering a complaint. It was impressive for a toon.

Still, it did not come without its drawbacks. She had to pick up a pair of reading glasses one day while she was off work, reading so much of the formal text straining her eyes after so many hours. She had to bring medicine to keep the migraines to a dull ache in her skull, and healing things gathered from playgrounds in order to make it through the day. Five hour days turned to nine hours, and by the time she headed home, she would stay awake long enough to eat, get clean, and then would proceed to bed and start the whole routine over again.

There were things that made it bearable, though. She learned while she worked. She would occasionally be visited by Arthur, who was a busy man in charge of three separate Field Offices. Toons so rarely stepped foot in those things, the offices seemed to be everywhere, lingering on while other buildings fell. Though he kept things in some degree of professionalism, he did give what support he could those few times he visited. He seemed more inclined to being helpful with her, either out of fascination or feeling he owed her for bringing him back from the dead. She wasn't entirely sure, but she didn't really care. His ever-grinning features brought her a sense of comfort, and that was all that mattered to her.

Oleander was also one cog she saw on a regular basis. He would check up on her, making sure she 'hadn't turned green yet', as he said. He would most often visit during her breaks, seeing how her vision was doing, asking her how she was. Sometimes they'd talk, sharing information. The feline would talk about what life was like as a toon, and the lawbot would talk about the cogs, or describe Cog Nation. He never did mention where it was though...'I'm sorry, little vone, but I cannot say. It's protocol.'.

Despite what she did, what she was doing...she knew that her absence was growing increasingly suspicious. The days she appeared out and about were not enough. Someone had to have noticed she was gone. Her siblings, maybe. They might've tipped off one of the higher ups. The thought was...unnerving.

The thought of the things she did as a toon grew less and less spectacular, and the thought of having to do them was something that grew increasingly dreadful. Nonetheless, she shed her uniform and donned her aqua blue set of clothes, and went off into the bright cheery section of Toontown known as Minnie's Melodyland.

o0o0o0o0o0o

She didn't notice the canine officer standing by one of the buildings as she trotted past. She didn't notice him reaching up, lowering the sunglasses down his muzzle enough to glance at her. Adorned in a beige and powder blue uniform, his beige boots clicking against the pink cobblestone sidewalk. He reached up to his headset. "Mr. Flippy, sir, the suspect is in visual range. Shall I proceed?" An affirmative made him, along with a few other officers stationed nearby, move. They cornered her when she ducked into one of the little alcoves for the fishing ponds.

"Miss Fancy Petalbubble?" She glanced up, blinking at the sight of the dog, horse and mouse toons standing before her.

"Um...yes?"

"Toon Investigation Agency, you're wanted for questioning."

"For what?"

"Suspicious behavior and activity."

...

Next thing she knew, she was being ushered down one of those black holes, with the officers falling in behind her. Their destination was a room within a building, though what or where the building was was unknown to her. She took a seat at the table in the center of the room, as she was told. "Might I ask what this is about?"

"Well, your brother reported to us recently that you have been missing. Attempts to check in with you at home were met with no response, you have not completed a toontask in 3.5 weeks, no gags have been purchased, no jellybeans earned and no phone calls or hole teleportations listed in the tracking record. Yet you are out in Minnie's Melodyland. Mind explaining that?"

"I've been in the area. I've been primarily fishing." Miss Fancy replied, a rather good poker face resting on her features. "I keep earning jellybeans from there, so I keep fishing...I sell my fish, and repeat the process."

"Is that so?" The canine officer asked, taking the files handed over to him and glancing through him. "Well, according to this, you haven't sold any fish. So what have you really been doing?"

"..." She paused, staring at him. "I do believe I have the right to not answer that question."

"Ah, but that'll make it so much more difficult for you, Miss Fancy." She said, setting the folder down and putting both hands on the table, leaning forward. "I mean, we could sort everything out right now...or we'll have to go through the whole legal process of conducting an investigation, retrieving a warrant to search your house, arresting you and all of that 'fun' stuff. You wouldn't want to go through that, would you?"

She smirked in a way that spelled trouble. "You might want to go get your cuffs, officer. Because I'm not saying anything."

o0o0o0o0o0o

"Sir, Miss Fancy didn't show up for work today." Jennifer said as she peered into the huge office. "Should I go ahead and start filling out the termination paperwork?" She asked, a little too much hope and eagerness in her voice. The feline had yesterday to do her 'toony' things, but she hadn't stepped foot in the factory today.

The large upper body twisted around to face her, the scowling face active. "No. If she's not here, then that means she's most likely been detained, Jennifer."

"What should we do then, sir?"

"-You- are going to do the work she would've done until she gets back...-I- am going to give her a few days. Let's see what that little pink cat can do before we consider getting a pink slip ready." The Name Dropper winced at the mention of doing all of that paperwork reserved for the cat, but looked away to avoid the glare thrown her way. "She has so far proven herself to be a better worker than -you-, Jennifer, to the point where I'm considering her as your replacement. I'd advise you prove me wrong before I decide to throw you off of Sellbot Towers myself!" That made her scramble out of the room as fast as her heels could take her, the door slamming behind her.

The V.P slowly turned back around, staring out the window. "That little toon is almost more trouble than she's worth..." He murmured to himself, black eyes watching the dark, smoggy air. "But...she's useful in terms of information...so many toons have been sent crying back to their precious playgrounds because of her help." The head swiveled, changing to the smiling version. "Is she makes it out of all of this trouble, I suppose I'll have to live up to my end of the bargain and offer her a more...permanent job position."


	6. Chapter 6

They had taken her shticker book. They had taken her gags. They had emptied her jar of jellybeans, and stole away her black hole. They took what they could find in her pockets, had slapped the cuffs on her and thrown her in a cell. Now Miss Fancy sat there on the wooden bench, gloved fingers entwined and her head hanging low.

She should've figured this would happen at some point. Her brother unintentionally ended up throwing her in jail. She wouldn't hold it against him, he had just been worried and looking for help to find her. But that still didn't erase the fact she was now stuck in a cell, and had been for the past day, unable to do anything.

"Tch, I bet Jennifer is celebrating right now." She tilted her head back, resting it against the cool wood. She could hear rain falling outside through the small barred window. She was somewhere in Donald's Dock. She hadn't looked out the window, but she could hear the sound of waves and smell the distinct scent of saltwater and old wood, and could hear the rickety creaking of said wood as it whined and complained with the water drizzling from the heavens.

"So far from the HQ..." She mumbled to herself. She needed to get out of here, preferably before they got back from looking through her house. All of the cog parts strewn about would probably be a nail in her coffin, paired with anything they got from the evidence locker and what they'd end up getting from her if they resumed interrogating.

She stood up, a plan rolling in her mind. "Well, if I'm going to be thrown out of Toontown, I might as well do whatever it takes to get out...all or nothing." She reached up, rubbing one of her eyes enough to make it look a little red and irritated, and moved over to the cell door. "Sir?" She called out to the horse officer who had remained to keep an eye on her,. She could see the loop of keys dangling off of his belt. "Sir? My eye is hurting really, _really_ badly. Could you come look and see if there's anything in it? I would, but, well..." She shrugged helplessly. The horse huffed in annoyance, but came over anyways. "It's this one, right here..." She pointed to the eye.

"I don't see anything."

"Maybe you should look closer. I think there's a hair or something in it." He leaned forward, eyes squinting. It was right about then that he whinnied in surprise as her cuffed hands reached through the bars and pulled him forward fast enough to slam his head into the bars, and pushed him back just enough to jerk him forward into the bars again, releasing his shirt as he was rendered unconscious. She crouched down, dragging him across the floor enough to reach the keys, and soon had her wrists free and the door open. She dragged him into the cell, locking it behind her and choosing to keep the keys with her.

Apparently, they didn't have very many escape attempts, because the security was a little lacking. She did have to sneak by a few of them. It wasn't until she reached the evidence room that she found it to be...difficult. Two guards stood at the door, unmoving. She gnawed on her bottom lip, looking around for something to help. Her baby blue eyes honed in on a fire extinguisher perched on the wall. Well, that could work.

They weren't expecting the white foamy spray coming out of nowhere, nor were they expecting a hard object to be swung at their heads. The loud clank of metal hitting bone was heard before they dropped. "Oh, I hope I'm not putting cracks in their skulls..." She mumbled, dropping the extinguisher as she opened the door and hurried to the evidence locker. She hadn't ever _wanted_ to hurt a toon, for the most part, but taking them out now could limit the possibility of being caught later. "Sorry guys.." She said as she looked over her shoulder. She gathered her uniform, pulling it on over her toony clothing, hurriedly taking everything she could manage to stuff into her pocket and kept the portable propeller out. She didn't care to sneak this time, she just picked the extinguisher up on her way out of the room and threw it at the nearest glass window. She ducked as it shattered, the metal canister sailing through it like a knife through butter. That instantly triggered alarms, but as she climbed through the opening, feeling as chunks of jagged glass sliced at her legs and tore at the fabric, she found she didn't care. She just wanted to get _out of here._

"Freeze!" She heard them from behind her as she leaped out, landing on the wood-laden sidewalks of Donald's Dock.

"I'm afraid I can't do that!" She called back, gripping the handles of the propeller and hitting the button. The blades spun, yanking her from the ground and into the air. She yelped and arched herself to the side, enough to dodge an incoming firehose that tried to knock her out of the air. The propeller wavered as one of her hands slipped, causing it to spin and dip side to side as it struggled to balance itself. She ended up running along a few rooftops as she tried to both dodge the incoming gags and get airborne again. She could hear the TIA agents yelling as she finally leaped, managing into the gloomy skies.

"Sir, Miss Fancy has escaped. Should we pursue?" The mouse officer spoke into her headset. Their teeth ground against each other when they were told not to. "Fine..." She barely managed to hold back the irritation she felt, watching as the pink cat disappeared into the distance.

o0o0o0o0o

The weight of what happened didn't hit until halfway through the ride to Sellbot HQ. She had been numb until that point, disconnected...overwhelmed. Her clothes and fur were drenched to the bone, and she was sure she didn't have any feeling in her frozen hands.

She had harmed other toons, with malign intent. She had escaped jail, and failed to comply with the TIA. She was working with the cogs. Her list of crimes was growing longer and longer, and that first one was enough to have her thrown out of Toontown by itself. What did they do to toons who had a list like her? She was almost afraid to find out.

Her eyes slid closed, cold ears listening to the rain falling around her, the faint rumble of thunder in the distance, the whir of propeller blades overhead. She could imagine the TIA would not tell her brother what actually happened. They'd probably make up some story...it wouldn't be safe to visit him.

"Sever the ties now..." She mumbled, exhaustion in her voice. "...there's only one place left to go now." She lifted her head as she saw the smog-ridden skies in the distance, along with the looming smokestacks.

"It's good to be home."

o0o0o0o0o

That's where things went fuzzy and black. She was tired, freezing, and most likely growing ill from spending such a large amount of time in the icy rain. She had ended up at Sellbot HQ, had landed...and could barely remember making it into the V.P's office and saying 'I'm sorry I'm late...I was detained'. The next thing she remembered was hitting the floor, yet again.

Everything went dark for some time. She had awoken with a gasp, body violently shivering and painfully constricted. There was just confusion and panic, not knowing where she was or how she got there, or why she couldn't move.

She froze as a hand rested on her head, gently patting the still dampened fur. "It's okay, little vone, it's okay. You are hypothermic, and are very very sick right now..." She couldn't pin where she knew that voice right now. All she knew was that she was cold, and her arms and legs were useless to her right now. "You are safe...nothing vill happen to you...go back to sleep..." Her bleary eyes slowly began to slide shut, heavy with illness and sleep. She curled into the heated blankets that wrapped around her, flicking an ear faintly at the sound of a beep, from a thermometer placed within the ear. It was pulled back, and she could only hear the faintest of sighs.

"You'll be alright, Miss Fancy...your new desk vill be waiting for you when you wake up..."

"Thank you..." It hurt to say anything, and her voice was little more than a whisper. And then, she drifted off again, feeling safe in the hands of the one who had the voice with the strange, strange accent.


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken her awhile to recover from her illness, but she was still as stubborn as ever. As soon as she could sit up and see clearly, she was back to work, now with answering calls on her plate as well as doing paperwork. Even while she battled a fever and a nasty, chest-aching cough, she worked. But did she complain? No. She didn't seem to be as affected by her job, now that she was no longer stepping foot in Toontown. She was just tired, by the time her shift was over...tired and hungry.

The edible gags that she had were gone relatively quickly, and it was really only thanks to dear Oleander that she wasn't going hungry. She was really starting to stack up a large debt to him, but he would always shut down any attempts of trying to paying it off, saying it was unnecessary. What a strange, strange cog...

o0o0o0o0o

"Miss Fancy, we need to get going soon if we're going to make it to the meeting." She lifted her head, pausing in her writing. Arthur was standing behind her, smoothing out his suit and overall making sure he looked presentable. Ever since she had essentially been evicted from Toontown, she hadn't had a place to stay, with only a temporary bed down in the repair bay while she was sick. Arthur had, graciously, allowed her to move into his apartment, one of the many in the skyscrapers that the toons never saw. They had been placed away for a reason, to give the cogs some place to not have to deal with those annoying little creatures on a daily basis.

The apartment was modern, decorated in silver and brass and dark colors...and given the previous roommate had met an untimely demise at the hands of toons some time before, she could happily call half of the place her own. Although, she _did _have to add a few things to make it habitable for herself. Particularly a small fridge of her own in her room. Cogs drank oil, ate synthetic food, neither of which she could touch. She also had to do some mild adjustments in terms of the shower...mainly being able to set the temperature to something that wouldn't melt her fur off if she dared step into the spray of water.

But, there was a bed. That was a plus side. She had learned that cogs went into a 'recharge' cycle at the end of their shifts, which was essentially sleeping by toon standards, so lucky her, there was one less thing she had to worry about finding and dragging in. She was also thankful she resided with a higher level and ranked cog. The lower the level and rank, the smaller and more basic the apartment. Cold callers essentially had a single room just a little bigger than a cubicle...she felt bad for them.

She smiled, closing her notebook and setting the pen aside. She hopped up from the desk and stretched, sighing as she buttoned up her jacket and ran a quick hand over her head, making sure the little curl of fur on her forehead was perfectly in place. The Mover and Shaker stepped aside, allowing her to make any adjustments to her appearance that she needed before she moved, stepping into her black flats. "Well, let's get a move on. We're dealing with all four bosses today, and I'd hate to get them in a bad mood by being late...they're already going to be nasty when the V.P tells them about me."

"Oh, I'm sure it'll be alright. Out of all of the boss brothers, the V.P is the one you'd trust not to feed you to the wolves." Arthur moved to the door, opening it and allowing the feline out first before he followed behind, the door closing and locking behind them.

"It's still a frightening concept, having them all gathering in one area. I mean, they're hard enough to deal with on their own. To think of all four of them being in the same room is just...daunting." She said as they walked down the hallway, past the various same-colored doors with the only individuality being the numbers hanging in the center of them. "How often do they do that?"

"Once a month, usually, and they take turns of where the monthly meeting is hosted. This month happens to be the V.P's turn...which gives him the opportune time to introduce you to the rest of them. They come with a few representatives of their own cache, meaning Lawbots, Cashbots, so on, and the four of them primarily talk about new events, how their business or court is doing. Even as a cog, I can safely say most of what ends up being said goes in one audio processor, and out the other. We key in on the important words and details, but black out the rest of it."

Miss Fancy giggled. "Wow, now that's boring. Glad to know that isn't a toon-only thing, tuning things out." She pressed the button of the elevator, glancing up and patiently watching as the lights flashed and dimmed as the elevator made its way up.

"I believe what you just said was an unintentional pun." Arthur spoke, his never-wavering smile wide as he looked down at her.

"What?" She blinked, and then made a small noise. "Oh yeah...toon, 'tooning' things out. Heh." She shook her head. The familiar 'ding' of the elevator was heard, its metal doors creaking open. They stepped in, spending most of the time in silence while it traveled down the many levels. Occasionally they were joined by another cog on the way down, and those that she knew she had brief conversations with. Simple 'How are you?' 'I'm fine, what about you?' sort of exchanges. She had found it wasn't that difficult to tell an individual cog apart, provided you looked for a 'marker' of sorts.

A scuff on the metal, a scratch. A patch in the suit, or a twitch or a difference in eye color. She hadn't ever mistaken Arthur or Oleander as another cog, or vice versa...she was rather glad for that.

Once they exited the building, it was straight into flying. The feline had long since grown accustomed to the experience of flight. She didn't care to do it while it was raining, given her last experience with it, but flying was fun when you weren't freezing to death. They cut through the dark skies, to a different part of Sellbot HQ. It was located in the back of the building, and it was the huge meeting room, with a door made for the large bosses of the different types. She tried to restrain herself from gasping as they made their way inside, looking up. "This room is _huge!"_ She whispered quietly to Arthur, who just nodded. They made their way to their seats at the table designed for the normal cogs, taking their seats, a low level Cold Caller sitting on the other side of Arthur. "When are they all supposed to be here?"

Arthur paused, looking at the watch on his wrist. "Two minutes. You'll know when you hear the squabbling."

"Squabbling?" She asked. She received her answer soon enough, when she heard the loud voices outside. They were arguing over various business terms and the best way to deal with toons...it wasn't that hard to tell they were siblings. She just sat back in her chair, listening to the metal tracks as they rolled in. The first in was the V.P of course, followed by the C.F.O, the C.J and finally the C.E.O. Along with them came their representatives. Oleander, one of the bird-faced Legal Eagles and a Bottom Feeder were from the Lawbots. A Loan Shark, Number Cruncher and Short Change for the Cashbots, and a Big Cheese, Head Hunter and Flunky for the Bossbots.

They didn't seem to notice her...at first. However, the moment one of them saw that she was indeed a toon, oh the ruckus that was raised. Her ears fell against her head, her hands clamping over them to try to block out the worst of the screechy metal voices as they tried to argue over each other, growing louder and louder as they tried to trump one another and come out the victor of the argument.

"**Will you all knock it off, please?**" They hesitated, falling into a stunned silence. All eyes -uncovered and blindfolded- turned to look down at the feline, who huffed in annoyance and cleared her throat as she straightened up in her standing, adjusting her cuffs. "Thank you. Now please, this is a business meeting, meant to discuss such matters. You are all representatives of your caches, please stop squabbling like immature children and behave appropriately. All you are doing is wasting valuable time and degrading yourselves." Her arms folded behind her back as she looked up towards the V.P. "If you would like, I could introduce myself."

"I...um...go ahead." It was obvious they were still in disbelief. Arthur played it cool, although the look he had shot her had quietly stated '_Quite a bold move there, Miss Fancy.' _She just smiled pleasantly.

"Chief Financial Officer, Chief Executive Officer, Chief Justice, sirs. I am Miss Fancy Petalbubble, the Senior Vice President's assistant. I give him information regarding the toons, and though I do not live amongst the toons anymore, I can still find sources who will give me information. I do my work as well as any cog, and I would rather not listen to any discrimination regarding what I am."

"Who does she think she is-!" The Chief Justice was about to begin, before the V.P shushed him.

"Now, now, C.J. If I didn't think she'd do well, then she wouldn't be sitting here. She lets you know up front what she expects...but, she's useful, and much better than my old assistant." The lawbot boss shut up, though with a sneer and the faintest of growls rumbling in his throat as he straightened up. "Now that we've gotten that out of the way, who wants to go over their monthly reports first?...I'm going to assume you, C.E.O?"

Of course, the Bossbot would go first. As he started talking, the Flunky had stood up to hand out reports for the cogs -and toon- set around the table. As he moved, however, Miss Fancy did notice he had difficulty trying to manage the large amount of papers in hand. She moved when she heard the faint thunk of his foot hitting one of the chairs, and saw him lurching forward.

She grabbed the reports that threatened to spill over and flutter into a raining mess of paper first, and twisted sharply on her heel, using her shoulder to stop the Flunky from landing on the floor. She gave a small, strained sound at the sudden weight leaning against her, and was greatly relieved when he scrambled up to his feet. The huge, round glasses were pushed up his nose as he sputtered apology after apology, which she quickly quieted, and took half of the stack to limit any more accidents. Everything was handed out, and she returned to her seat, listening to the droning on as the Bossbot talked about what they did...which, from what she could tell, was little more than converting toon buildings into cog buildings, golfing and something else...

Turns out, Arthur was right. These meetings were boring. And that was scary, given the nature of cogs. Some of the cogs around the table were nodding off, of slumped over with their arms holding up their heads. They would perk up a little once their bosses would start talking, but it was evident that nobody really wanted to sit around and talk, except the bosses themselves. Miss Fancy just leaned back, staring at the ceiling, her ears twitching to catch those 'key words' that were mentioned.

It was going to be a long, long, _looooong_ meeting.


End file.
